


Sehnsucht

by idareu2bme



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: ...so is angst, Bittersweet, CUDDLES ARE MY KINK, Cuddling & Snuggling, I AM NOT A CHEMIST, Leonard Snart is Bad at Feelings, Leonard Snart is practically a cat, Loyalty, M/M, Mick Rory gets existential, Mick Rory is a Softie, Mick Rory-centric, Mutual Pining, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Pet Names, Pining, Protective Mick Rory, Soft Boys, heavy handed symbolism, so much pining, whatever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-02
Updated: 2019-04-02
Packaged: 2019-12-31 22:23:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18323135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idareu2bme/pseuds/idareu2bme
Summary: When Len is drugged, Mick quickly takes on the role of protector and caretaker. Through the experience, a lot of his feelings for Len come to surface.





	Sehnsucht

**Author's Note:**

  * For [brodeurbunny30](https://archiveofourown.org/users/brodeurbunny30/gifts).



> I am very bad at naming my fics. I'm sorry.

Mick looked up as half the team returned from their stupid, little scouting mission that he hadn’t been invited to. He hated being benched and, even worse, he hated Len going out without him to watch his back. His eyebrows knit together when he was met with the surreal sight of Len leaning heavily against Palmer. Tossing the tablet he’d been moodily messing with to the side, Mick quickly stood and strode toward the two. Len liked to keep his distance from most people, even more so from Boy Scout Palmer. Yet, he had his face pressed into Palmer’s chest and his arms slung around his waist. His feet were barely moving as they slowly trudged in. Palmer was doing his best to keep him upright and moving forward, but kept tripping over Len’s dragging feet. Was Len hurt? He looked drugged.

 

“What the hell happened?” growled Mick, pulse speeding up.

 

Boy Scout looked relieved when Mick reached to take Len from him.

 

“That so-called sorceress woman, happened,” said Rip, stalking past them.

 

“It seemed she actually _did_ have some _magic_ up her sleeve,” said Palmer as he passed Len over to Mick.

 

Mick tried to get a look at Len to see how he was hurt, but Len was quick to wrap around him like an octopus. He nuzzled his face into Mick’s throat and rubbed his torso against him, letting out a happy hum that might as well been a purr.

 

“That don’t tell me much,” said Mick. “What’d she do to my partner?”

 

“She whammied him with some sort of pink powder,” said Boy Scout, all big eyes and worried eyebrows. “I don’t think he’s hurt, he’s just…”

 

“Stoned out of his tree,” finished Jax, shaking his head.

 

“You smell so good,” murmured Len, rubbing his face up the side of Mick’s neck causing goosebumps to rise on Mick’s arms without his permission. “Mmm, _so_ good.”

 

Mick frowned harder than he’d already been frowning. He could hear Len taking great big sniffs against him.

 

“You smell like…” Deep sniff. “...sweat…” Deep sniff. “...and l-l-lithium grease…” Deep sniff. “...and like... _Mick_ ,” said Len while continuing to take deep pulls through his nose. Mick tried to subtly take a sniff of himself at the sweat comment.

 

He looked up to meet Jax’s smirking expression. He let out a growl.

 

“I could just breathe you in forever,” purred Len, still sniffing him. If he kept up all that weird sniffing, he was going to hyperventilate.

 

“Stop that,” said Mick, pushing Len’s face away from his throat. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”

 

He turned his attention to Rip who was doing something with Gideon; probably checking on his precious timeline.

 

“How do we fix him?” he asked, mad that Len’s situation wasn’t Rip’s priority.

 

“It’ll probably work it’s way out of his system,” said Rip with a shrug. “Maybe take him over to the medbay and get Gideon to have a look.”

 

Mick scowled at him. Stupid jackass.

 

“C’mon Lenny,” he said lowly to Len who was back to bodily rubbing himself all over Mick’s front. Damn, he was going to be angry and embarrassed when he came off whatever the hell that pink stuff was that did this to him.

 

Mick looked up in time to see Jax mouthing ' _Lenny_ ' at Palmer. _Damnit_ , he hadn’t meant for that to slip out in front of people. Mick glared some more.

 

“Your shirt is so soft,” mumbled Len running his hands over Mick’s stomach before stopping to knead at him.

 

“Like a cat on catnip,” muttered Mick to himself, resolutely ignoring the shivers Len’s touch were giving him.

 

He heaved Len up over his shoulder. Len didn’t seem to mind being carried, but he kept squirming in his weird need to constantly be rubbing himself on Mick. It made it hard to keep hold of him.

 

“C’mon Boy Scout,” called Mick over his shoulder. “You gotta show me how to work all the medical shit.”

 

Palmer was quick to follow after him. He was stupid at times, but at least he could be obedient. They passed Stein in the hall on the way. He followed after them, immediately interested in the situation. Mick frowned, Len didn’t need an audience.

 

Mick set Len onto the examination bed, but had to quickly reach out to stop him from immediately rolling off because of his ridiculous writhing.

 

“What happened to him?” asked Stein, curiously.

 

“The sorceress we went to see blew this sparkly pink powder in his face,” said Palmer. “He’s been acting this way ever since.”

 

“If you idiots had let me come, he’d never have gotten drugged,” growled Mick.

 

“It happened real fast, Mick,” said Palmer sounding both apologetic and contrary at the same time.

 

Mick wanted to punch him. Instead he just gave him a threatening look while Palmer asked Gideon to scan Len.

 

“Mr. Snart has a foreign drug in his system commonly known in 2034 as Rhapsody,” began Gideon a few moments later. “It has a unique chemical makeup with markers consistent to the drugs Dihydrocodeinone and Methylenedioxymethamphetamine, more commonly known in 2016 as Vicodin and Ecstasy. Rhapsody is derived from the plant--”

 

“I don’t care how it’s _made_ ,” snapped Mick, interrupting Gideon. “How do we _fix_ him?”

 

By then Sara and Jax had wandered into the room and were standing watching as Len continued to squirm around on the bed while constantly reaching for Mick. Mick curled his lip angrily at them. No way would Len be happy to have so many people see him like this.

 

“While prolonged use of the drug could cause severe side effects including br--”

 

“Skip to the important bit,” growled Mick.

 

“The drug should work its way out of Mr. Snart’s system over the next eight hours with no lasting adverse effects. He may have difficulty regulating his body temperature and there is a mild risk of dehydration while he is on the drug. After it has worn off, he may experience headache, fatigue, and possible nausea.”

 

“Right,” said Mick as he tried to keep Len from wrapping both his arms around the arm Mick was using to hold him in place. “So keep him warm, get him water, and tomorrow he’ll have a hangover.”

 

“You are correct, Mister Rory.”

 

“Mmm take off your shirt, _Mickey_ ,” murmured Len. “I want to touch your skiiiin.”

 

Sara and Jax snickered from behind Mick. He whipped his head around to glare at them. As he turned back to Len, he saw even Palmer was covering a smile with his hand.

 

“Stop it,” Mick growled at Len who was trying to lift up his shirt, at Palmer who was doing a piss poor job of holding in a chuckle, and at the room as a whole. “If he’s gonna be okay, I’m taking him to his room.”

 

Mick lifted Len back up on his shoulder.

 

“ _Damnit Len_ ,” he said when his shirt, still in Len’s fist, nearly came up right over his face as he lifted Len. “Knock it off.”

 

“But you have such _pretty_ muscles,” whined Len. “Remember after that job in Coast City when we--”

 

Mick nearly dropped Len in his hurry to cover his mouth. The rest of what Len was saying was muffled by his hand and blessedly unintelligible.  

 

“I remember,” he grunted. “Now _shut up_.”

 

He grabbed his shirt out of Len’s hand and pulled it back down, still holding Len against his shoulder with the other. Then he swung around and gave the four other people in the room his most murderous glare.

 

“Not a fucking word about _any_ of this, tomorrow,” he said. “You even _hint_ at this within Len’s earshot and I’ll rip your arms off. We clear?”

“Understood,” said Stein, raising his hands in surrender.

 

“It’s sweet that you’re so protective,” teased Sara as Mick walked past her for the door.

 

He growled, his mind flitting to his heat gun in his quarters. It would be so nice to light the lot of them on fire. Instead, he wordlessly stalked out of the room.

 

With the way Len was clinging to Mick as they awkwardly moved down the corridor, Mick wondered if Len would let go of him when it came time to put him down. Once Mick had carried Len into his quarters, however, Len immediately let go of his neck and slithered down his body onto the bed. Mick was almost offended at how quick Len had been to let go of him. Almost.

 

"My beeeeddd," raved Len rolling around with a bright smile on his pretty face.

 

The smile was so happy that it took Mick back to the first time they’d used their heat and cold guns. He had never seen Len look so wildly delighted before. Mick couldn’t help but smile back at Len now, even while shaking his head. He hadn’t expected to get to see Len smile like that again.

 

Len let out a giggle before rolling over to smash his face into his comforter and spread his arms out wide across the bed.

 

"It ain’t _that_ nice a bed," huffed Mick as Len laid sprawled nuzzling at the pillows like some baby animal.

 

Mick turned to go sit down, ready for a long evening of watching over his partner, but then remembered the dehydration thing. He exhaled a short sigh and grabbed the cup sitting beside Len’s bed to go fill with water. He gave Len a wary once-over before leaving the room. Hopefully the guy wouldn’t fall off the bed and injure himself before Mick returned.

 

Len was still laying on the bed when Mick returned with the glass of water. He was staring at his own hand as he moved it back and forth on the comforter like it was mesmerizing. Mick huffed and walked over.

 

“You gotta drink some water,” he said. “Sit up.”

 

Len slowly turned his head to look up at Mick with glazed eyes. It was slightly creepy. Mick reached to grab Len by the collar of his shirt and pull him up. Len’s eyes immediately sharpened their focus like he was getting with the program and he sat up.

 

“Mick-Mickey-Mick,” he murmured.

 

“What?” asked Mick, pausing in moving the cup to Len’s mouth.

 

“It’s too hot in here,” said Len, simply.

 

“Kay,” said Mick before pushing the cup against Len’s lips. “Drink this.”

 

A lot of the water dribbled out the corners of Len’s mouth, but Mick was satisfied to see his throat moving like he was actually swallowing most of it. Mick set the glass down beside Len’s bed and let Len lay back down. Len immediately started pulling his layers of shirts off.

 

“What are you doing?” asked Mick.

 

“Is too hot,” said Len, voice muffled by the shirts caught over face.

 

Mick huffed and reached out to help. His breath stuttered when his hands met the skin of Len’s sides while he tried to help him get the shirts off. They should have been taken off one at a time, but were instead all bunched together. Mick bit the inside of his cheek and gently worked them over the width of Len’s raised shoulders. The underside of Len’s arms were especially soft compared to the rough calluses of Mick’s hands. Being this close to Len was doing terrible things to Mick’s insides.

 

Finally the shirts came off and Len dropped back down onto the bed. Mick took them to toss into the corner of Len’s room. When Mick turned back to Len, he was already working at the fly of his jeans. Mick let out a sigh. _Of course._ Len wore his layers like he wore his cold exterior and now he was stripping them off right in front of Mick like he would never do. _Well,_ Mick guessed, _this might as well happen._

 

“You’re not gonna get far with your boots still on,” he said, defeated.

 

He stood up and moved to the foot of the bed to start unlacing Len’s boots. Len shimmied out of his jeans while Mick made sure to keep his full attention on the task of pulling off his boots. Ridiculous as it probably looked, his libido did not need him to see that particular show.

 

Once Len was down to his underwear, Len let out a long, contented sigh that made Mick’s stomach swoop.

 

“Mick, _Mick_ ,” sighed Len. “I can feel _everything_.”

 

“That’s nice,” said Mick, picking up Len’s jeans and boots to toss in the corner with Len’s shirts.

 

“Come lay with me,” said Len. “Come _feel_.”

 

“Go to sleep, Lenny,” grumbled Mick before sitting down in the chair near the door.

 

Considering his inhibitions were stripped away, Len was actually being a pretty calm druggy. Leave it to Len to still be some version of ‘cool and collected’ even while on a wilder version of ecstacy. He was back to quietly watching his own hand as he ran it over the blanket and then over himself. The ‘over himself’ part was distracting.

 

Mick looked up at the ceiling and leaned back in his chair. He stretched before putting his elbow on the armrest and leaning his chin on his fist. His eyes kept wanting to wander over the exposed planes of Len’s body. The sight was something he’d love to drink in, but he knew he shouldn’t do too much drinking at that particular well.

 

It wasn’t even for Len’s benefit that he kept forcing himself to avert his eyes. He’d spent the majority of his life living in some pretty dark gray areas and definitely wasn’t above enjoying a good view. It was just harder when the view was his sexy partner; nearly naked and not in his right mind. Mick had never seen so much of Len, even with their long history which included multiple stints in prison and more than a handful of heated fucks.

 

Len hadn’t had the nicest of childhoods, but neither had Mick. The difference was, through his bad experiences, Len had learned to keep his emotions in check and his exterior cool, while Mick had learned almost the opposite. Mick wasn’t scared of his feelings and he sure as hell wasn’t scared of other people’s feelings. He didn’t need walls of ice to protect himself; if someone came in hot, he’d just blaze hotter.

 

Things with Len were different. Mick liked things simple, but Len was a bit complicated --on every front. They were partners and there wasn't a person on earth he trusted more than Len. They had each other's backs and knew each other's weaknesses. Still, even they had walls between them. Personally, Mick wouldn't mind losing the walls, but Len liked to feel safe and in control. The walls did that for Len and Mick respected that.

 

Too bad this whole dumb pink powder drug experience was going to fuck things up for Len when he sobered up. Mick figured he'd managed the situation pretty damn well, though. Len would be upset that he'd been all loose-lipped and cuddly in front of the team, but Mick had gotten him out of their sight as soon as he could and no actual secret doozies had been revealed. And if the others knew what was good for them, they wouldn't bring it up.

 

No damage had been done that Len couldn’t pretend hadn't happened. That was his most likely response. It was what he did every time they’d had sex when the adrenaline rush of a job or a good fight got to them. It was also what he did any time something tiptoed too close to feeling territory. Len’s answer to anything uncomfortable was to pretend everything was fine and move on.

 

"Mick!" called Len, startling Mick from his thoughts. "You're upside down!"

 

"What?" asked Mick looking over at Len to find him hanging halfway off the foot of the bed, the top of his head almost touching the floor. With the way he was still squirming, he’d end up falling off at any moment.

 

"Damnit, Len," groaned Mick.

 

He stood up and took three long steps across the room. He grabbed Len by the shoulders and lifted him back up on the bed.

 

"Mmm," hummed Len, closing his eyes and smiling. "I like when you lift me."

 

"What," said Mick without inflection.

 

"Pick me up Mickeeyy," singsonged Len, running his hands up and down Mick’s forearms where he was still holding Len’s shoulders. "You're so strong. My Mickey. My my Mickey."

 

"For fuck’s sakes," groaned Mick, letting go of Len and straightening.

 

He rubbed a hand over his face and wondered how much memory of this Len would have in the morning. Hopefully none. Then his brow furrowed as something occurred to him. He touched Len’s shoulder again. It was cold as ice. Thinking of the body temperature regulation thing Gideon had said, Mick ran his hand across Len’s chest. Len’s hands were always cold, but the rest of him should have been a normal body temperature.

 

"You feel cold," said Mick.

 

"That's CAPTAIN Cold," said Len frowning in a cartoony way before smiling again. "But you can feel me Mickey. My Mickey. So strong. Come lay with me. I want to feel you feeling me."

 

"Shut up and get under the blanket," ground out Mick while lifting up the side of the comforter.

 

He tugged on the corner of the blanket, but Len definitely wasn’t aware enough to know to move out of the way. Mick pushed him onto his side so he could pull the blanket down.

“C’mon Len, work with me here,” he grit out.

 

“Lay with me, Mick,” whined Len, rolling back in the way and reaching out to pull at Mick’s shirt. “I want you to be my blanket.”

 

Mick straightened and let out a frustrated sigh.

 

“Y’know what, fuck it,” said Mick before kicking off his boots. “You’re going to be mad in the morning, but… _fuck it_.”

 

“Yessss,” groaned Len happily.

 

Mick saw Len staring at him from under heavy eyelids as he pulled his shirt up over his head. Thing was, Len often looked at him from beneath his lashes and it _always_ did things to Mick’s heart. This was worse. He silently reminded himself Len wasn’t actually thinking clearly at the moment before tossing his shirt toward the corner where Len’s clothes were.

 

“Okay,” he said, pulling at the corner of the blanket, again. “Move over. I’m getting under the blanket.”

 

This time, Len was quick to figure out what to do and climbed under the blanket with Mick. It made Mick wonder for a moment if he’d been duped by a stoned Leonard Snart. He didn’t have long with that thought before Len’s ice-cold hands were on him, causing him to jump and shudder.

 

“Damnit, Len,” he hissed from behind clenched teeth. “You’re freezing cold.”

 

Mick reached to pull him closer and rub his hands up and down Len’s arms to warm him up. Len went willingly, but that didn’t mean he made it easy. He was back to his original plan of rubbing his face and torso all over Mick like some sort of teenager at a rave.

 

“Stop that,” demanded Mick.

 

“I just want all of you to touch all of me,” murmured Len, though it was a bit hard to understand because he face was smushed into Mick’s neck again. It was a lot harder to ignore Len’s mouth against his throat now that they didn’t have an audience. Mick was sensitive there, _damnit_.

 

Mick gently but firmly pushed Len away from his neck. Len moved down his body to instead lay his head on Mick’s left pec. That was better. He could handle that --well, maybe.

 

“Mickey,” whispered Len, his breath the only warm thing about him against Mick’s bare chest.

 

“What Len,” asked Mick, rubbing a hand down Len’s back. Len really needed to stop calling him ‘Mickey’. He’d not once called him that sober, but Mick was starting to like how it sounded coming out of Len’s mouth.

 

“You make me sad,” said Len, suddenly sounding emotional.

 

Mick’s breath caught in his throat.

 

“Why?” asked Mick.

 

“I wish, I wish,” continued Len as if not hearing Mick. “I wish…”

 

Mick went back to rubbing his hand up and down Len’s back, feeling lost and worried.

 

“What do you wish, Lenny?” he asked softly.

 

Len rubbed his face against Mick’s chest again, stubble of his jaw against sensitive scar tissue. Mick swallowed heavily, his heartbeat quickening. He cleared his throat to mask the little groan that managed to escape his voice box.

 

“I wish you were mine,” murmured Len before pressing a kiss to Mick’s chest.

 

Mick’s heart felt like it momentarily stuttered to a stop. He swallowed a few times.

 

“I _am_ yours, Len,” he rasped. “I’m here, ain’t I?”

 

Len moved to look up at him, his chin sharp where it rested on Mick’s sternum. Mick put his hand on Len’s head and dragged it down to cup the side of his face. Len was beaming at him, his eyes glassy with the drug and unshed tears.

 

“My Mickey,” he whispered in awe.

 

“Yeah, I’m your Mickey,” sighed Mick, knowing full well that this wasn’t going to be half as nice a memory come morning.

 

Len squirmed around so he was laying beside and half on top of Mick again.

 

“I’m your Lenny,” he whispered before nuzzling his face up under Mick’s chin like a cat again.

 

“Yeah,” rumbled Mick. “I wish.”

 

Len went back to rubbing his stubble over the sensitive, scarred skin of Mick’s shoulder and chest. Mick held in his gasps like a true soldier, but there wasn’t much to be done about his hard-on that had grown pretty damn incessant from Len’s squirming and rubbing.

 

Finally, Len began to quiet down. He seemed to be close to crashing. Len laid beside Mick with his cheek resting on Mick’s chest. He laid there unmoving except for his hand. Mick glanced down at him. Len was back to watching his hand move over things.

 

“What are you doing?” murmured Mick.

 

Len hummed and kept his eyes trained on his hand as he ran it over the blanket, then over Mick’s stomach, then over his own stomach, and then back to the blanket again.

 

“I feel both sides,” he said quietly as he ran his hand over his own skin. Then he ran his hand over the blanket and said “I feel one side.”

 

He ran his hand across Mick’s stomach, his fingers automatically curling so he could scritch his nails against Mick’s coarse hair leading from his navel.

 

“I feel one side,” said Len, again.

 

“I feel the other side,” murmured Mick lowly.

 

“I wanted you to feel all of me,” said Len like he thought it was the most profound thing.

 

“Okay, Leny,” said Mick quietly, something in his chest twinging.

 

It was probably strange that laying there in Len’s bed with Len’s scent all around him and Len’s weight across his chest would easily make Mick feel so relaxed. It shouldn’t be calming to be in that situation considering he’d never experienced any of those things in a relaxing scenario before. The only times Len’s naked weight had been on Mick were the handful of times they’d properly fucked and none of those times had ever being _calm_.

 

But, with Len quiet and prone against him, his hand lazily running over Mick (or himself, or the blanket), it was easy to pretend that this was the way things could be between them now. Mick let out a deep breath and closed his eyes. Sleep was quick to take him.

 

* * *

 

Mick woke a handful of hours later to the sound of Len’s quiet snores. They had moved in the night, Len on his side facing away from Mick and Mick spooned up behind him with his arm wrapped low around his waist. Mick glanced at the time. The drug should have been completely out of Len’s system by then. And, according to Gideon, Len would be hung-over when he woke up. Mick should go get him some more water and some pain killers, and… well… mostly, Mick should just go.

 

He moved to carefully slide his arm off Len, but that was when he realized Len was clutching it against himself. Len’s grip on him tightened when he tried to move. Mick held his breath and slowly pulled harder. Len finally let his arm go. Mick laid still for a moment waiting, but Len’s breathing didn’t change. He slowly climbed out of the bed and carefully tucked the blanket against Len’s back. Then, he grabbed the cup and his shirt on the floor and left the room as quietly as he could.

 

The ship was mostly quiet as it was early in what they might call the morning. Mick pulled on his shirt while he quickly made his way to the galley. He stalked across the room with only his target on his mind. Someone cleared their throat. Mick startled and whipped around to see Sara sitting on the other side of the room with her feet up on the table.

 

“How’s Len?” she asked, smirking at having startled Mick.

 

“Sleeping,” grunted Mick before opening a cupboard door.

 

“How’d everything go last night?” she pressed.  
  
Mick huffed and turned around to face her.

 

“Fine,” he said, sharply.

 

He didn’t like the look on her face.

 

“You remember what I said?” he asked, letting his tone take on a threatening lilt.

 

“Yep,” she said, popping the ‘p’ and looking completely unbothered by Mick’s threat. Damn assassins. So damn cocky.

 

Sara took a sip of her coffee, her eyes never leaving Mick’s. He curled his lip and narrowed his eyes. She looked like she was going to be trouble. He growled at her before turning back to the open cupboard.

 

“The Aspirin is on the top shelf,” she said sounding bored.

 

Mick grunted in an approximation of thanks. He grabbed it and then filled the glass with water before stalking out of the room not sparing another glance her way. The crew better not fucking bring yesterday up once Len was up and about. He didn’t need Len shutting down completely.

 

Mick slipped quietly back into Len’s room and tiptoed over to set the glass of water and aspirin beside the bed. Then, he grabbed his boots and was about to leave when Len spoke.

 

“Mick?” he asked, his voice sounding rough with sleep.

 

“Yeah,” said Mick, carefully setting the boots back on the floor in the hope that Len hadn’t noticed them and figured it out. His mind worked quickly, even when groggy with sleep. Then he turned to Len.

 

Fortunately, Len wasn’t even looking at him. He was still laying how Mick had left him earlier facing the other direction. Len rolled over onto his back and rubbed his hands over his face. The blanket was down at his waist and he looked absolutely mouth-watering all groggy and loose-limbed, eyes a bit puffy, lines of his face a little more pronounced than usual.

 

“How’re you feeling?” asked Mick trying to go for indifferent but sounding a bit guilty even to his own ears.

 

“Like shit,” murmured Len truthfully.

 

Mick chuckled darkly at that.

 

“There’s some painkillers and water just there,” said Mick. “It’s still early, you could sleep longer.”

 

“Thanks,” said Len. Mick shrugged and turned to leave. “Mick?” called Len, again.

 

“Yeah?” asked Mick, not turning around this time.

 

“Did…” started Len, but then he stopped. Mick held his breath. “Did you mean what you said last night?”

 

Mick’s heart stuttered in his chest. He turned around to look at Len, wondering how much Len actually remembered from the night before. He had hoped the expression on Len’s face would give him some insight, but of course, it was unreadable. His mind flitted back to how he had promised Len that he was _his_ after Len’s little drug-induced emotional melt-down. Was that what Len was asking about? He tried to think of any other things he had said that Len would want clarity on. He couldn’t think of anything else worth asking about, but he also knew he was biased in the moment.

 

“I mean everything I say,” he hazarded.

 

A small smile pulled at the corners of Len’s mouth and he rubbed a hand over his face again.

 

“Yeah,” he said. “That’s what I like about you, Mickey. No head games.”

 

Mick felt light-headed at Len’s sober use of the pet name. He swallowed a few times, knowing his feelings must show loud and clear on his face. Finally, he cleared his throat and nodded.

 

“Kay,” said Mick. “I’m gonna go.”

 

Len hummed in reply before rolling back over and pulling the blankets up to his neck. Mick stared at his back for a few beats before shaking himself. He grabbed his boots and quietly slipped back out of Len’s room. He didn’t know what to do with any of that. He wanted to believe that things between them would change for the better now, but he didn’t want to get his hopes up. Best not to leap to any conclusions. He’d just have to wait and see.


End file.
